


Hell Hounds Were Not in the Job Description

by Yolatirra



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: A Hell Hound, Friendship, Gen, Ichabod's Coat, Slightly Slashy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yolatirra/pseuds/Yolatirra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's been a cop for over twenty years, so he's familiar with fear and danger. To some extent, he's adapted to it. He can come out of a gunfight with a clear mind and steady hands, and put off the effects for when he can deal with them in private. Guns aimed at his forehead and bullets flying past him come with the job.<br/>Hell hounds do not.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell Hounds Were Not in the Job Description

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed, Mostly Unedited. Just wanted write something fairly quick and simple. 
> 
> I did not intend this to be slashy at all, but it kinda is a bit. This is for you, Orlando Jones.

His heart is still pounding, breaths still coming a little too quick.  


He's been a cop for over twenty years, so he's familiar with fear and danger. To some extent, he's adapted to it. He can come out of a gunfight with a clear mind and steady hands, and put off the effects for when he can deal with them in private. Guns aimed at his forehead and bullets flying past him ears come with the job.  


Hell hounds do not.  


Until today, he'd been unable to deny that something was going on in Sleepy Hollow, something that Mills and Crane were generally able to deal with, but he hadn't been sure he believed their explanations. Today, he'd nearly had his neck snapped by a red-eyed, horse-sized dog, quite possibly from the depths of hell, and there's only so far skepticism can go.  


"Captain Irving?"  


Crane's voice startles him. He's still got adrenalin rushing through his system; he's probably in shock. He takes a deep breath and lets it out, slow and controlled, before looking up at Crane, who's standing a couple of yards away and watching him carefully.  


"Crane," he says, giving the man a nod, hoping it will be enough to reassure him.  


If anything, though, Crane looks more worried. He steps a bit closer and kneels next to him where he's sitting against the wheel of his police car. Crane's eyes dart across his face, and he sits up a bit straighter under the force of that gaze. "I believe you may be in shock, Captain." Crane says, standing again. "You require medical attention."  


Irving holds up a hand to stop him from running to the EMT truck nearby. "You're probably right, Crane, but I'll be fine." He says. Crane stops and looks at him questioningly, so he takes another breath before saying, "How's Lieutenant Mills?" He hadn't seen exactly what happened, but at some point Mills had been injured. He'd seen her fall to the ground and he didn't know how badly she'd been hurt.  


"Her leg was scratched by the hound's claws, and she will require stitches, but the medics assure me she will be fine," Crane says, then asks, "are you quite sure you do not require assistance?"  


"There are people worse off than me. I can wait."  


Crane looks reluctant, but he nods. Irving gathers his strength for a moment, then pushes himself to his feet. He's not dizzy, but everything looks a bit bright and surreal, so he closes his eyes.  


A heavy weight falls across his shoulders--Crane's coat, he realizes--and he glances up to see Crane stepping away. "If you are in shock, you need to keep warm," Crane offers as explanation, and Irving smiles despite himself. He'd half expected the man's coat to reek, but it doesn't, though there's a lingering mustiness that he suspects will never get washed out.  


"Thank you," he says, and Crane smiles, before jogging back toward the EMTs, probably to check on Lieutenant Mills. Irving lets out a sigh that turns into a bit of a chuckle, and he tugs the coat tighter around his chest, leaning back against his car.


End file.
